Reid: (to Nick) You’re a fucking layabout now?

Nick: I’m home-schooling Gerome.

Reid: (to Gerome) What’s he teaching you?

Michael: (to Nick) Have you taught him black holes?

Marion: Michael did a presentation on black holes in science today.

Nick: We haven’t done—

Gerome: (quickly, softly) Black holes: leftover star bits with gravitational tidal forces strong enough to crush everything while tearing it to nothingness at the same time.

Marion: Wowzers, there’s our A+ student!

Michael: Actually, they’re black and they suck up light is the answer. “Black hole.” Can you do like a backflip?

Gerome shakes his head.

How about a front flip?

Gerome shakes his head.

Gawd, what’s wrong with you?

Marion: There’s nothing wrong with him, hun. I can’t do a backflip either.

Michael: We know you can’t Mary-rion. But what’s he got?

Marion: Why don’t you tell Geromey about gymnastics?

Reid: Hey, how ’bout we not call it that? “Gymnastics.” He’s not hanging out with a bunch of six-year-old girls and doing somersaults.

Marion: (to Nick) We signed him up for after-school gymnastics, and he loves it.

Reid: Acrobatic Arts! Your nephew—my son—is a competitive gymnast. No joke, this kid—prodigy. You didn’t hear it from me cuz I’m biased, but put these words together in your head: Michael Pinel—Pommel Horse Genius—Olympics 2028, Los Angeles. Be there—he’s gonna get a gold for his ol’ man, I swear to god!

Michael: Can you do a backflip, Uncle N?

Nick: No.

Michael: I can.

Gerome puts his hand up.

Marion: Uh—yes, Geromey?

Reid: Look at that plate! Pile of meat—decimated! My man, you’re kicking a vegan’s ass right now. This is you getting better.

Marion: But save room for dessert—

(announcing) Everyone save room for dessert! We’re having pineapple!